And I'll be Gone, Gone Tonight
by nightingale231
Summary: Hallucinations cause Thomas/Stiles to relive the dreaded page. The pack joins him in this endeavor. (Titles from Story of My Life by 1D)
1. 1: Hallucinate

Of fucking course it was Peter.

That stupid asshole decided the best way to get revenge -for some reason or the other- on the pack was to try to make them go through their worst memories again.

With the rest of the pack there _in _the memories.

Lydia's was resurrecting Peter all over again, being _used_ like that, losing control of herself.

Jackson's was being the Kanima, killing people and forcing his Alpha into the pool with only a weak human to help him.

Isaac's worst memory was being in the freezer, watching his dad terrify Camden into leaving, hurting him.

Às they cycled through the pack's memories, they were shocked by the trauma that some of the pack went through in their 17-18 years of life.

"Stiles, have you _gone_ yet?" Lydia asked, shaking her hair out of her face. Sweat matted the pack's faces as they stared at the human, who shook his head.

"Man, bro, you're lucky!" Scott exclaimed, shaking his head.

Stiles shrugged with a rueful smile.

"Sure, Scotty, sure."

Time and space started to warp around the pack as they _went _into Stiles' worst memory.

"Where are we?" Derek asked, turning to a pale Stiles.

Stiles' eyes were glued to a light-brown-blond-haired boy leaning on the graffiti-ed street wall.

"_Newt?_" His voice broke as he stared, his clothes melting into other, darker colors, a gun materializing at his side as the pack stared at the nearly-palpable emotion between them.

"So, what, huh, _Tommy?_" The boy-_Newt, apparently-_ snarled, black veins nearly bulging. "Did you want a sit-down, huh? A talk about how bloody _cheery_ it was in the Glade?"

"No, Newt," Stiles' voice cracked. "Just-Just _come_ with us, ple-ase" He would never admit to the voice crack.

"Did I ever tell you how I got this limp in my leg, _Tommy_?" Newt snarled. "I climbed up the wall. I couldn't take it anymore. I jumped."

Lydia gasped, tears swelling up. She blinked them back.

"I'm gonna blast, Thomas!" A voice yelled from the van parked a few feet away.

"Vince, just… Gimme five minutes!" Stiles yelled back.

"Fine! FIVE!"

"Come with us Newt, please," Stiles pleaded with the blond. "You know Min and Bren are coming with the serum soon, please!"

Black goo slowly dripped down from Newt's lips, staining his pale skin.

"If you've ever been my friend, kill me. KILL ME!" Newt's eyes cleared, staring into Stiles' eyes, smiling at what he saw there. "Can't… save… me this time, love."

"I can try!"

"Please, Tommy. Please."

Stiles raised the gun, cocked it with the safety off.

He shot it, tears finally spilling over as he watched his Newt die.

Time and space warped around them one last time, surrounding the astonished pack.

Stiles trembled in front of them.

"Why… Why? Bad enough I had to go through that once, but _why?_" The anguish in his voice scared some of the pack members.

"Becau-" Peter was cut off when Stiles whipped around.

He pulled a knife out of his sleeve and launched it at Peter, stalking closer.

"If you _ever_ interfere in my life again, I'll make sure there isn't enough of you _left_ on _any_ plane to resurrect again." Stiles whispered, his voice full of hidden power. "I can do that, you know. I have several friends on speed dial to help me with that."

"Now," he said, turning to the rest of the pack. "I'm gonna go and vid-chat a couple of people. Don't. Follow. Me."

He left.

"What the hell just happened?!" Isaac exclaimed.


	2. 2: Dear Newt

_Dear Newt,_

_I watched you for three years. I was on the other side of the beetle blades, but you already know that._

_What you don't know:_

_I loved you for a long time, since we were nearly ten_

_We kissed for the first time when we were almost thirteen_

_You walked up to me, dragged me into an empty room, and told me point-blank that you liked me: "Tommy, I'm bloody well in love with you."_

_I had to steal cinnamon sticks from the kitchen and keep it under my pillow in order to sleep._

_I had to watch you be Swiped, Teresa performed it._

_I tried to save you, when you jumped._

_Too many things I had to tell you, not enough time to say them all._

_I love you, always and forever._

_Tommy._

Stiles wrote the letter, crying halfway through. His dad came in, smiling sadly at the shaky handwriting.

"I loved him, Dad." Stiles whispered. "We met when I was sent up in the Box..."

Over the next couple hours, Stiles detailed exactly what the Gladers had gone through.

"He said, '_Please, Tommy, please_'," Stiles' voice cracked. "I've never been able to say no to him. Ever. I shot him in the heart, and he _smiled._ God, I wish he was here. When I saw the ocean, my first thought was _Where's Newt? He'd love to see this._ I turned to my left, but Minho was there, and _god_, did I do the right thing?"

"Yeah, son. You did." John sighed. "He wanted it, didn't he?" A nod. "You did what he wanted. You said his biggest fear was losing his control or losing you, right?" Another nod. "Now, wash off, Mischief."

Stiles looked up, shocked. His dad had called him _Mischief. _Not _son_, not _Stiles._

_Mischief._

He hadn't been Mischief since his mom died.

"'Course, daddio." Stiles shoved the emotion behind a barrier. "Now, we're going out to Lyla's tonight. Five minutes."

Lyla's Diner had been Claudia Stilinski's favorite diner. It was a quaint little place off of Main Street, just a few blocks away.

They hadn't been since John's cholesterol had gone up three years ago.

"We're gonna treat ourselves to curly fries and burgers today," Stiles said happily, pulling his coat on. "Come on, Dad!"

John and Stiles walked into Lyla's Diner and a hush fell over the previously-bustling diner.

"John and Stiles Stilinski! Well, it's been years since I've seen you two!" Lyla Etan, the owner, stepped out from behind the till and hugged them both. "The usual, boys? Two double bacon cheeseburgers and curly fries? D'you still like Coke, Stiles?"

A quick nod had Lyla grinning.

"Well, I'll go and make that up for ya really quick. Great to see you back here."

When Stiles tried to pay, Lyla shook her head.

"Naw, it's on the house tonight, my boys. Good to have you back."


	3. 3: You can Run, You Can't Hide

"Min, you there?"

"Yup."

"Can you come over here for a while?"

"Apparently, my mom's dead. My dad's remarried and a history teacher in a place called Beacon Hills."

"... What the fuck?!"

"What is it, shuckface?"

"What's his name?"

"Ken Yukimura."

Stiles nearly spat out his coffee.

"Tell your dad-if you've met him already- that you'll be staying over with a guy you met online who also lives in Beacon Hills," Stiles ordered. "Tell him that it's Stiles you're staying with, because you know him a bit from Skyping so often."

"Who the shuck is Stiles and why am I staying with that shank?"

Stiles took a deep breath.

"Me, Minho. You're staying with me."

"... Was Stiles your name before?"

"Yeah, it was. I still use it, actually, because I apparently also had friends before."

"Well, I didn't expect that, shank," Minho shook his head. "I'll tell him and meet you in… Gimme three days to get there, 'kay?"

A confirmation from Stiles had their goodbyes said and the screen on black.

As Stiles changed and fell into bed, exhausted, a camera flashed in the darkness.

* * *

Scott POV(just for fun)

"Tomboy!" An unfamiliar voice called across the lacrosse field. Scott whipped around at the sudden flow of happysafebrotherlove that flowed from Stiles at the sound.

"Minho!" And Stiles, unathletic, unassuming Stiles fucking sprints towarrd the unknown Korean, who shakes his head with a smirk, but opens his arms to catch the sarcastic brunet.

"How you been brother?"

❤️~Time skip~❤️

**Pack Meeting**

"This is Minho, guys. Minho, these are the assholes I hang out with," Stiles said, rolling his eyes at Scott's "Bro!".

"I'm gonna get some soda," Stiles said, shooting a loaded glance at Minho. "I expect everything to be in mostly-intact condition, Minho."

"Hold up, why me?!" Minho exclaimed.

"You're the only one I trust with keeping everything here safe, Min. Please, Minho," Stiles nearly whispered the last sentence. Even the wolves had to strain to hear it.

Minho seemed to understand what he was implying, as the Korean straightened up a bit, head lifting.

"Yeah, don't worry, Tomboy. They'll be fine."

Stiles smiled and walked into the basement. As soon as he was out of sight, Minho turned to the pack.

"The boy in there? He is my brother in every way that matters and he's told me about what you all did to him. Seriously? Shuckfaced slintheads, the lot of you," Minho shook his head as Stiles tromped back up the stairs. "Now, Thomas-"

"Why the heck do you keep calling him Thomas?" Derek said, standing up and Eyebrowing(tm) Minho.

Before the Korean could answer though, Noah walked inside. He nodded at Derek, walking straight into the kitchen as Stiles came back up.

"Stiles," Noah called. "There's a blond boy about your age in the cruiser. His guardians died out out on Oak Road, near the Preserve. I said we'd foster him while the system looks for someone. And I'm having a beer and you can't stop me." Clinking was heard from the kitchen.

"Welp. Minho, come with me." The two brunets walked out. The pack stared after them. Stiles hadn't acknowledged them, barely sparing a glance.

In the garage

Thomas-he was Thomas now, not Stiles- opened the cruiser door, Minho just behind him and a little to the left. They gasped nearly in unison.

Newt lay there, bruised and beaten, fast asleept. They shared a loaded look, Minho leaning forward and picking Newt up gently.

As the Keeper walked Newt upstairs and into Stiles' bedroom, Stiles himself walked back into the living room.

Questions bombarded him as Stiles cut through the pack and walked into the kitchen.

"Okay, everybody out," Stiles said, looking over the pack. "Now."

The pack knew better than to argue when Stiles used that tone, so they filed out. The pack meeting was done anyway.

As Stiles made just about every recipe he knew, a black car drove away.


End file.
